(no subject)
Feeling the burden of another month between my hips David, I'm thinking about you tonight. I spoke to your mother today, her tiny wan voice coming through the airwaves. Still there, miraculously. And you're here too. Between Alex and I we have documented enough to keep you here a little longer. You're holding on to our hearts and weighing them down like clothes on a hanger. If you only knew.
It was my goal to find someone like you somewhere else in my timeline. You were the first model I used to measure what it meant to be a love of my life. And you killed yourself, and the man who took my virginity should be put away for statutory, and I wonder what it means that I'm the functional one. Your mother sounded like someone beat the shit out of her, and someone did. I have always been good at self-preservation, so I have kept my voice, but I locked up part of myself with you, and locked up part of myself with Daniel. I am wondering now if I feel like giving Matt another piece of me, but my heart feels threadbare. Like I said to you when we were 15 and my love for you was so serious, I am thawing meat, bleeding all over your counter. So messy and raw and unsanitary.
You've left me with a pile of such nothing of you, such artifacts to pour over. I still feel your bony little knuckles and knees. I still see that dastardly smile and arched eyebrows. I wish someone had warned me that you'd be a ghost, laughing at all my plans, effervescent. I thought I would follow you to the ends of the earth until you took me up on the offer and jumped off. I'm still here. Miraculously. I'm done beating myself up over things I could not have prevented, and nothing I could have done would have convinced you to love me, to get off drugs, to not go to that hotel alone. In the three days before they found you, I would like to believe that you found me first, in the impossible poetic way you always beat me to the punch.
I would give up many interesting and important things about myself to see the capital D David you again.
It was my goal to find someone like you somewhere else in my timeline. You were the first model I used to measure what it meant to be a love of my life. And you killed yourself, and the man who took my virginity should be put away for statutory, and I wonder what it means that I'm the functional one. Your mother sounded like someone beat the shit out of her, and someone did. I have always been good at self-preservation, so I have kept my voice, but I locked up part of myself with you, and locked up part of myself with Daniel. I am wondering now if I feel like giving Matt another piece of me, but my heart feels threadbare. Like I said to you when we were 15 and my love for you was so serious, I am thawing meat, bleeding all over your counter. So messy and raw and unsanitary.
You've left me with a pile of such nothing of you, such artifacts to pour over. I still feel your bony little knuckles and knees. I still see that dastardly smile and arched eyebrows. I wish someone had warned me that you'd be a ghost, laughing at all my plans, effervescent. I thought I would follow you to the ends of the earth until you took me up on the offer and jumped off. I'm still here. Miraculously. I'm done beating myself up over things I could not have prevented, and nothing I could have done would have convinced you to love me, to get off drugs, to not go to that hotel alone. In the three days before they found you, I would like to believe that you found me first, in the impossible poetic way you always beat me to the punch.
I would give up many interesting and important things about myself to see the capital D David you again.